Vote early, vote often
No, wait. That’s Florida. Sorry.
It took me longer to find my voter registration letter that it did to walk over to my polling place at the United Way office around the corner, vote and walk home. Eight minutes, round trip.
I’d done the stupid thing. It had sat for weeks, unmolested, on a shelf over the desk that I generally keep free for papers and whatnot that shouldn’t get lost in the flotsam on the desktop. The other day, I moved it. Fifteen minutes of searching this morning and it finally turned up, stuck to the fridge with a magnet. Whodathunk?
You don’t need the letter to vote, but it’s helpful when it comes to finding the right line when more than one district uses the same polling place.
There was a steady stream of voters in and out. Every single one, except me of course, was remarkably young. Twenty-five to thirty I’d guess, and I’m being generous on the high side here, at 9:00 this morning—the backpack and cargo pants generation.
Everyone made eye contact and wore a smile, which I’m hoping meant, “I am doing/did my part to kick that arrogant prick out of office.” That little bit of community felt good.
Now I’ll just sit back and wait for the games to begin.
